Curse of the Dead Gods instal the new for apple

He cannot tell if the men are his or someone else's, and therefore he does not know whether he should encourage them with shouts or rout them with gunfire.

Along the way they have set fire to wagons and armory carriages and precious stores, and their silhouettes leap up against the flames like devils. A moonlit army is in panicked retreat, tumbling down a wooded ravine in massed and plummeting chaos, flags and the fallen crushed underfoot, bullets incoming from God knows what rifles set God knows where, men and horses dropping from prior wounds or falling wounded anew. Eyes as blue as the skies of his native Ohio, as blue as his lonesome traveling heart, as blue as the brightest hopes of the Union. The set of his jaw and the sparkle of his flashing eyes. Only the grim set of his jaw might indicate that there is reason to pay him particular mind. He bears, in other words, no indication of his line of work, much less his rank. Atop his head is a cap of white wool, knitted for him by Nellie as a Christmas present, drawn down close to his eyebrows. His feet are posted square on the floorboards against the irregular rocking of the train, and upon them he wears black workboots, thorn-scarred and battered. His featureless blue overcoat is folded carefully and stowed on the seat to his right. He wears cotton trousers of faded blue and a pale gray checked shirt minus a collar. Slouched in his seat and barreling toward Nashville in the gathering twilight, he is clad as unprepossessingly as any rough-knuckled tradesmen. Smaller and less ornamented and easier to miss. If he weren't a general he could be a spy, so unremarkable is his native condition.įor one thing, he is smaller than his reputation.

Everyone knows him but no one recognizes him, for he travels as always in his natural anonymous state. Louis to Cairo, and once in Cairo he boards a train for the two-day journey to Chattanooga. He says his farewells to Julia and the children and he goes by steamboat from St.

Excerpt: 'The General and Julia ' by Jon Clinch

Curse of the Dead Gods instal the new for apple